


jazz nights

by r0wlets



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, old stuff, phaesporiashipping, rarepair level six
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-19 16:08:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8216116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r0wlets/pseuds/r0wlets
Summary: It's hard to keep surveillance with a pretty girl in front of you. AU. Oneshot.





	

_jazz nights_

Cynthia sat by one of the speakeasy’s furthest corners, swirling her glass of water with a straw, lost in thought. It had been rather easy to get into the establishment, even easier to be offered drinks by various men, but she refused each of their temptations. No doubt if they knew she was really one of those bastard undercover agents that spoiled their fun by busting these exact types of establishment, they would be singing a different tune to her.

But tonight was not one of those snag and arrest days. Just a typical surveillance one, one of many that the Unova region had experienced in the past few years. When the government had declared a ban on government to strengthen virtue and fight crime, the underground decided to quietly uproar, refusing to give up their demoralizing spirits. Thus, the speakeasies were born, and undercover agents like Cynthia were born. She didn’t like how the upper management of the police force said that “no one would ever suspect a woman cop”, but she enjoyed most of her work, even if all of her coworkers were rather rude towards her. It allowed her to experience a different side of things without running into the wrong side of the law.

Like the beautiful jazz singer who sung by the bar. Wrapped up in a purple dress and red robes, she poured her heart out into the microphone, occasionally looking to her piano player, a Gardevoir who also smiled whenever their trainer shared a glance with them. They were perfectly in-sync, giving the tipsy crowd what they wanted, and upon the average click glance one would think their passion and happiness never skipped a beat.

Sadly, Cynthia knew better. The Depression still seemed like just yesterday, even though that catastrophe was already a couple of years ago, and it put a lot of good people out of business. This singer was one of them. She had been a famous actress and singer, and then the banks botched up everything and she was forced to be a wandering freelance, taking up small jobs at speakeasies, most of which were so demeaning to their female workers. They’d allow their drunken customers to throw things at them and make appalling motions with their hands and, depending on the establishment, even turn a blind eye when they wanted to grope someone’s rear end.

The undercover agent had seen all too much of this. She also knew that this was not this jazz singer’s first stop. She’d actually been - unintentionally - following the singer for about four or five stops now, and if prompted she could probably sing, albeit badly, a few of the tunes. This was Cynthia’s routine for about six weeks, sitting in the back and observing shady movements while admiring the jazz singer who poured her heart out to whomever would listen.

When the time came to bust this speakeasy, Cynthia just hoped that the singer would not be there when the paddywagons came to arrest people. She was so beautiful, so passionate, and she deserved a chance to rebuild her former glory. One day all of the regions should know Diantha’s name again, see it on billboards and talkies, not just people who spent all of their savings on their vices. If it came down to Cynthia doing the arrests, she wasn’t sure if she could manage placing handcuffs on such delicate, smooth wrists. It would be such a waste to throw away such innocence.

So for now she refused to think about that. Taking a sip of her water, she placed her gaze upon Diantha once again, wishing that her smile would never end.

**Author's Note:**

> (Original notes: Written after a jazz concert.)
> 
> Originally written April 11, 2015 on tumblr. It'd be nice to develop this.


End file.
